Monday, May 24, 2010

Are you there, God? It's me...

(With apologies to Ju.dy B.lume and any men reading.)

Remember being in 5th or 6th or 7th grade, eagerly/anxiously awaiting your first period? You dreaded hearing about someone else getting it, because that would mean you'd be the last one, it was never going to come and you'd be a freak/child/virgin/spinster because you never got it?

Well, I was one of those girls, sort of. Only, I didn't talk about it, because the friends I had between elementary, junior high and high school didn't all know me back at the other school. So, many already had started before they knew me. No big deal. I didn't say anything, they didn't say anything...

I was 14. December of 9th grade. Yeah. I was watching a talent show in the library of my high school when I felt it start.

Finally. I was so grateful that finally I could be like everyone else.

I don't know. I don't know anything. C and I haven't talked about the money we are likely to inherit. Well, no, we have. First, we fantasized about expensive toys or paying off some debt. Having at least part of a down payment for a house. Having a little bit of a financial cushion.

But. There's that other thing. Baby-making. Family building. Can't really do both. Or, well, we could but only a few options/combinations would work.

And then there's that whole getting pregnant, again. And being pregnant, again. Or, beginning the adoption process, which seems huge and daunting, too. (and there's my birthday, again. looming.)

Haven't really discussed it in any depth. Not yet.

Right now, I kind of feel like I'm 13, again. I have no idea how, when or if this is going to happen. And what it's going to take. And how I'm going to deal.

Friday, May 21, 2010

Dear Friend

I added a link to my Good Reading section. It is written by Chris of Elm City Dad, and featured on Glow in the Woods. He lost his sweet baby Silas, just hours after his birth.

Chris's (and his wife, Lani's) posts can sometimes be hard to read, but this is not to say they should not be read. It is just that they are so raw, and often bring both me and my husband right back to that place. Whatever emotion, moment, event they are describing comes in technicolor through the black pixels forming letters on the screen.

They are not always easy to read, these words, but they are important to say. And, maybe most importantly, they need to be heard.

We were lucky enough to have family and friends be there for us in many of the ways Chris describes. I will always be grateful to them.

Thursday, May 20, 2010

Up Late

Disjointed and annoyed and up too late.

I can feel the half an ambien trying to work, but I'm resisting.

Met with the "life coach" guy again on Saturday. Since the two others in my class didn't show, I got a private coaching session with him and his wife. It was actually good. I think. Somehow I can accept the questions he asks me. and the sense he makes of my words. Maybe some stuff that had been simmering, ruminating, meandering around my brain.

I almost felt hopeful for a day or so. Trying to think about somethings differently. Thinking about the way things have been happening. How I've been, how I've reacted. How I'd like to change something things, ways I react.

And yet, I'm still so angry and sad. I never got a break, between the end of classes, finals week, losing Grandma; now my summer classes have started and I have work to complete from the spring, still..

(Did I already post about this?) I made a narrative for that one research class I was taking. The one with the faculty who said the absolutely wrong things right after my loss. She has been better around that. I may post what I wrote for that project. It included a few posts from here, but wound up being about telling the story. What sliver do I tell? Even as I re-read it now, I can see sloppy writing on my part, things I would edit. She had some interesting things to say, though, my prof. Unexpected. Not sure what to do with it.

Sort of feels like a sea change is coming. Or might be. I don't know. The ground underneath me, the feel of the air is different somehow.

Time to sleep, or try to.

Tuesday, May 18, 2010

Here's one thing

...that's pissing me off about my family. There are a bunch, but I'll just start here.

My grandmother had a heart attack on Monday, the Monday before she died. It was a small one, says my brother when I ask him today. I found out over dinner before the last shiva, on Monday. In front of Dad, sister, BIL, Uncle (Mom's brother) and Aunt, Friend B, and, of course, my husband. At least I wasn't alone in my ignorance: B and C didn't know either.

No One Told Me.

Is this my fault because I don't call enough? Haven't been in touch enough? Oh, it was very busy and we didn't know how things were going to progress, said my Dad. Did A, my sister, know? Well, apparently, since she's the one slipped and said something at dinner. Well, I just happened to call and found out.

And no one called me? No one left me a voicemail? No one sent me a fucking 10 word text message?

Oh, I thought Dad would do it, says my brother.

My brother who is riding my sister's ass about the proceedings of the inheritance because he's afraid he's going to be left out of important information or decisions. Who implies via email that this is just "found money" to me and my sister, taking it all very casually. Right.

Good lord, no wonder no one trusts anyone. Fucking triangulation. At no time does every member of the family have all the same information on anything.

Okay, so maybe that's two things. Three?

Saturday, May 15, 2010


I'm sure by the tenor of the last few posts that you can tell it was a difficult weekend. I'm still processing a bunch of stuff, but in the meantime, I thought I share a few bright spots.

1.) My niece. I hadn't seen her in person since she was about 2 1/2 weeks old; she's 10 months now. Honestly, I am so in love with her I can feel it in my chest. Sweet and engaged and generally relaxed and sociable. It was amazing to see her greet my dad again, to see them both react -- just wonderful. I'd like to believe we made a little connection. I sat like an idiot for 10 minutes stacking 3 little cups and knocking them down, just to hear her laugh.

1a.) My sister commented that she was so happy that I could be with my niece, and enjoy her. It was all I could do not to grab the baby out of the sling my sister was carrying her in when we met at the airport. By the end of the trip, I was dressing her and holding her and calming her down. We had a lovely time looking out the picture window at all the green trees and the occasional car driving through the neighborhood. Despite the impulse to hold her, be with her, though, there was always the hangover.

2.) My dear friend B came down for shiva Monday night. She drove almost two hours when she got off work (she's a teacher) and stayed far later than she should have. But, oh, it was so good to see her. With everything going on, it was really a comfort. My family was happy to see her, too. Just one thing that was easy this week.

3.) My grandparents left us an inheritance. It's not huge, but it will allow us to pursue -- or at least consider -- some avenues that we had thought were closed off to us, at least in the short term. No decisions yet, but there may be some options to consider. I'm still so strung out by finals week and the loss of my grandmother and the associated family crap and finishing my own work, and Oh, I'm starting the last course in my program on Monday. A little overwhelmed, but knowing it's out there is good. Mostly.

Hopefully, by the end of next week the most difficult anniversaries will be over with. Thank you, all of you, for your comments and support this last week -- these last weeks. I can't tell you how much it means to me.

Friday, May 14, 2010

no title

I can't seem to get up.

There's a sweet dog leaning her head against my leg. It's been there since she came in from her walk several hours ago. Since my return, she has been my little furry, red-headed shadow, despite the 5-star accommodations she had this weekend.

I have one leg over the side of the bed. I need to get up and do my work.

Maybe it's the weight of May pressing on me. My sister mentioned this to me, about how she used to love May in NY. I did, too.

Now I would have the whole month stricken from the calendar, were it not for my wonderful wedding day.

I still need to get up. I have responsibilities. The world will not wait for me.

There is much to tell about this weekend. It will wait. Just a bit longer, I guess.

Wednesday, May 12, 2010

Eight Years Later

Our wedding song.

Tuesday, May 11, 2010

they're right

You can't go home again.

Friday, May 7, 2010

She's gone

Late this evening.

September 14, 1917 -- May 6, 2010.

Nine years (to the day) after she buried her daughter. Six after she buried her husband.

Her name was Anna Sarah T______, but she hated her name and changed it to Ann Shirley as an adult. Yes, after Anne of Gr.een Gab.les (or so I understand, though, she didn't keep the e at the end).

She was a hell of a woman. She made a mean pot of chicken soup with matzo balls and "killer" rugelah, known internationally. The slippers she knitted are still keeping feet warm all over the country.

And she was my Grandma.

Thursday, May 6, 2010

Oh, and (edited)

My grandmother is dying. Her heart is failing and she is barely lucid.

I just collected my students' final exams which I have to grade and post by Tuesday at noon. C may not even be able to come home with me due to final exams and posting grades, and, oh, there are the animals. Do we take Stella with us? Will she freak out if we leave her alone in my dad's house ? There are several people who we might be able to leave her with, but I don't even know when I'm going or who I'm going with. And the cats?

My sister is going out on a date-night to night, and trying to justify staying in a hotel because her loser husband can't be flexible, and gets stressed because there's no space and is "concerned about cleanliness" as far as the baby goes. This is the same husband who put the baby down outside a Westwood/UCLA cafe, in the dark and WALKED AWAY FROM HER, to get something out of the car.

This is the same loser husband who gave her grief in the days surrounding my mother's funeral because my sister didn't have time to shower with him. It's not like she had anything else to deal with.

Well, you know, he's not used to being in such cramped quarters, 'cause we practically have a whole wing when we go to his mothers' in Bloomfield Hills. I told her, well, it's nice that my niece won't have to worry about cramped quarters, she'll always be comfortable.


I'm not ready for this. I haven't talked to her in a couple of weeks. I know I complained, but it was a complaint of privilege.

I'm not ready for this.

ETA: Don't worry, I'm off to take a pill and try to *do* something.

Tuesday, May 4, 2010


Thunder and lightning. Heavy rain ushers in the beginning of the tenth year without her.

I miss her so much.

Monday, May 3, 2010

75 words

I just did a wordle of my blog from the first year. This might be easier to see: